The Jedi Archives: Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura
by Viedyn
Summary: A series of snapshots into the relationship between Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura, in alphabetical order. Rating is subject to change. Chapter E: They're trying to end this... whatever it is. They should just give up. Rating change for mature content.
1. Chapter A: Aayla

**The Jedi Archives: Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura**

By Viedyn

Disclaimer: Star Wars © George Lucas. This chapter and all chapters henceforth are purely works of fiction, and I do not gain any monetary profit from this story. Unfortunately.

Chapter Summary: Kit is obsessed with Aayla's name… and is less-than-discreet and incredibly vocal about it. Aayla is annoyed.

A/N: My deepest thanks and gratitude to Minion of Sekhmet, who is my lovely beta, encouraging inspiration, and most wonderful friend. This is dedicated to you, my dear.

* * *

**Chapter A: Aayla**

Within the vast confines of the Temple Archives, the peace, broken occasionally by the shuffle of boots and the stray whisper of voices, was emphasised by the soft tapping of fingers against a datapad.

"Aayla."

… And the not-so-soft voice of one Nautolan Jedi Master.

"_Aay -_la."

… Continually and incessantly voicing aloud a particular name.

"Aay-_lllla_."

… Adding improvised variations in a deep, ponderous tone.

"_Aay_-a-_lllla_."

… And inching steadily closer towards perilous danger.

"_Aaaay_-_lllllarrr_." A significant pause. "Ey-la. Aayla. Ey-a-la. _Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaay_... –"

An irritated twitch of cerulean _lekku_. The rhythmic tapping ceased for a fleeting moment, before stubbornly plowing on.

"–… _laaaaaaaa –"_

"DAMNIT, Fisto, quit screwing around!"

The peace was broken. As were the varying degrees of concentration of several dozen Jedi Masters, Knights, Apprentices, and the odd Youngling scattered between the towering aisles of archived knowledge.

Aayla Secura mouthed a sheepish apology to a scowling Master before shoving her datapad into her utility pouch and dragging a bemused Kit Fisto – rather forcefully – by the arm into a shadowed corner of the archives.

"All right, Fisto, you'd better have a very good explanation for the broken-commlink imitation," the irate Twi'lek growled, jabbing a finger into his robed arm for good measure. "And I want it promptly within the next two minutes!"

"I like it."

Aayla paused, mouth open as she processed his – incredibly – brief explanation. "… pardon?"

"I like it," came the nonchalant response. "Your name; I like it."

A faint blush tinged the Rutian Twi'lek's cheeks as she floundered speechlessly for a brief moment before returning to her previously-agitated state. "Yes, well, there are other ways of expressing that."

"Hmm, really?" Kit tilted his head to one side, a pensive look adorning his face.

"_Yes_," Aayla stressed, emphasised by the irritated twitch of her _lekku_. "Just saying so, for example. A simple comment; a passing observation. There's no need to remind me of my name every two seconds!"

The Nautolan emitted a non-committal noise which may or may not have been an agreement. "I hadn't considered those options…" he frowned thoughtfully, his gaze – or his face, at least – turned upwards to the towering ceiling.

Aayla sighed explosively, rubbing her face with one hand, the other at her hip. "Please do so, then."

"Eh," the Nautolan shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Those aren't so fun. Gotta run now; very busy schedule! May the Force be with you… _Aayla_," and he promptly fled from the archives, faster than a pouncing nexu and his mind ringing with the infuriated telepathic shout from Aayla.

He didn't stop running until he'd rounded enough corners, doubled-back several times at various intersecting corridors, and traversed a sufficient amount of distance from the archives. He slowed to a stop at the last intersection before his quarters, a few green tentacles falling over his shoulders as he peered cautiously around the corner…

"Ah! Master Fisto!"

The green sentient's head whipped around with an audible pop, and his supposed-assailant was forced to leap back suddenly to avoid being acquainted painfully with fourteen tentacles. Catching sight of the speaker, Kit was both relieved and suitably horrified. It wasn't an enraged Aayla… but it was a certain, highly-esteemed and stunned Cerean Jedi Master.

"Master Mundi! I apologise, I wasn't paying proper attention to my surroundings. Are you unharmed?" he winced, and inwardly vowed to never let Aayla catch wind of this incident; she would never let him forget it.

"Quite all right, Master Fisto. The past few weeks have been undeniably stressful, and yet we still have another Council meeting," Ki-Adi-Mundi sighed. "But… -"

"_Council meeting_?" Kit interrupted, sounding rather surprised… and slightly panicked, Mundi noted curiously.

"Yes, indeed. Our duties never seem to end, do they?" he chuckled.

"Right," Kit laughed, inwardly panicking.

He had meant to escape to the security of his quarters after his recent baiting of mortal danger, but now he had a Council meeting, where he was entirely exposed and vulnerable to a ruthless counter-attack… most likely by means of a humiliating prank, but where Aayla was concerned, her pranks were considered the ones to be the most likely to succeed in killing someone through embarrassment.

Granted, there would be several other Jedi Masters there, but Aayla was… Aayla. She could even be up in the Council chambers at that very moment, evilly cackling "fufufu…" as she prepared Force knew what for him…

"Are you alright, Master Fisto?" the Cerean inquired, his brow furrowed.

"Fufu."

**AAA**

Kit Fisto heaved an internal sigh of relief, relaxing in his comfortable – and apparently un-tampered with – Council chair.

He'd been sitting rigidly in his seat for the past half hour, tense and ready to spring far, _far_ away from the possibly dangerous chair-turned-Nautolan trap at the slightest twitch in the Force. His anxieties were seemingly disproved when nothing had happened at all since he'd sat down, albeit tentatively and with much apprehension, in his chair.

He'd been so distracted that he'd not paid any heed to the debriefing so far, and sat a little straighter in his chair – feeling a little twinge of guilt – when he belatedly realised that Master Unduli and Padawan Offee were leaving the room.

The doors to the Council chamber slid open, and when Kit saw who was next to be briefed by the council, all of his previous apprehension returned full force.

Aayla Secura stepped in, 'looked' at him, and smiled.

_Sithspawn__._


	2. Chapter B: Boxes

**Chapter B: Boxes**

Chapter Summary: Kit Fisto stumbles across a peculiar – but incredibly endearing – Twi'lek youngling. [Not continuative of Chapter A]

_This one is also for you, Jacqui! :)_

* * *

His head hurt. His tentacles were being squished into the ground, and they were making their objections known through one tendril's actions in strangling him. It was a new experience for him; he'd never known his tentacles could act on their own whim and strangle the person to whom they were attached. Or maybe that was just the concussion doing the thinking for him.

Oh, and the ceiling of the Temple nursery needed to be cleaned. Badly.

"Are you dead?"

If anatomically possible, the Nautolan would have blinked. Instead, his trapped appendages twitched in surprise, and he was painfully reminded of the fact that he was single-handedly killing his own olfactory head-tresses.

"Mister Jedi?"

"Ow…" he groaned, and attempted to rise.

He was promptly rewarded with a startled yelp and a sharp smack across his forehead.

"OW!" Belatedly, he rolled away and to his feet, clutching his smarting head with both hands. He tripped backwards over something, however, and fell on his backside.

That 'something' turned out to be a small cardboard box, the sort that used to be used for storage and had long been replaced by datapads and the like. The reason for his being on the floor in the first place happened to be another box, similarly coloured like the second – childishly haphazard and vibrant.

Jedi Knight Kit Fisto stared at the chaotic scene of the nursery before him: boxes of varying decoration covered the floor of the nursery, until there was barely any of the carpeted floor showing. Crayons and other colourful items of stationery littered the ground, and strips of coloured cardboard had been pasted onto the legs and bars of the cots.

There was no visible indication of his would-be assailant, either.

Frowning in perplexity, he lowered his hands to better view the nursery, then did a double-take when he saw his grease-stained and oily fingers. He wiped a hand on his tunic, then rubbed at his forehead; it came away smudged with oil.

And there, lying innocently at his feet, was a grease-stained hydrospanner.

"Hello?" he called out tentatively.

Silence answered his hail. He tried again. Now the silence was just mocking him.

Kit frowned, and nearly smacked himself for his own stupidity when he realised – rather belatedly – that he could just reach out with the Force. His senses were immediately overloaded with various Force signatures around the Temple, but he could detect a definite source not too far from where he was standing.

_A youngling, perhaps?_ He wondered, rubbing his head absentmindedly. A quick look at the chrono told him that it was about time for Master Eylan – the nursery overseer – to be taking the older younglings to lunch. Perhaps a youngling had accidentally been left – or stayed – behind.

"Hello?" he called again, now starting to feel somewhat foolish. "I won't hurt you, little one," he said gently, looking around for the stray youngling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an overturned box move slightly, as if nudged. "My name is Kit Fisto," he continued speaking, moving slowly closer to the box. "I love what you've done with these boxes – I assume you were the one to colour them all?"

Through his – slightly sore – tentacles, he could sense the youngling's amusement. A soft, childish giggle – slightly muffled – sounded from the box. Now that he was only a few steps away from it, Kit could see that the words 'Ryloth' had been scribbled on one side; there was also a lopsided circle that was probably a representation of the planet.

"Now I wonder which planet you're hiding on," he mused aloud, his trademark grin appearing. He actually found himself quite enjoying this little game, despite the pain in his head. "Could it be… Naboo?" he said, glancing at another, smaller box entitled 'Nabu'.

Another giggle.

"Or could it be Coruscant?" his eyes sparkled upon seeing the box with a messily scrawled word that looked more like 'croissant' than the planet's name.

'Ryloth'-box shifted again, accompanied by more muffled giggles.

"I think I know where you are," he stopped in front of 'Ryloth'. "You're hiding on Ryloth, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not," came a sweet, muffled voice from the box at his feet, followed by more giggles.

"No?" Kit injected as much surprise into his voice as he could.

"Nuh-uh," the youngling persisted. "I'm on Coruscant!"

"I'm sure," Kit grinned, lifting up the box at last. "Hello there."

The Twi'lek youngling crouched at his feet looked up at him, a big smile on her face. "Hi," she said, a little shy under the gaze of the Nautolan.

Kit crouched down so that his height wouldn't intimidate the Rutian Twi'lek, but he couldn't help notice that she was _tiny_. The oldest initiates in the nurseries were five years old at the most, and the babies were kept in crèches. He wouldn't judge her as any older than four, but he hesitated to put her as any younger as well.

"What's your name, little one?" he asked.

"I'm Aaylas'ecura," she replied, still shy. "Oh… Aayla Secura, Master," she said, switching to the Basic pronunciation.

"Little Aayla," Kit said. "It's nice to meet you."

The Twi'lek beamed at him. "Do you want to play with me, Mister Jedi? I'm making a starship!"

Kit glanced around the nursery, with its colourful decoration and the many boxes – _Where did she get all these boxes?_ – on the floor. _Bant won't mind if I'm a little late to watch her spar with Kenobi, will she?_

"All right then, little one," he agreed. "But please, no hydrospanners."

Some time later, Master Eylan returned with the rest of the younglings in tow, and stared at the scene before him in surprised amusement.

"… don't ask," Kit said dryly from the floor, where he was lying flat on his back with several – thankfully empty – boxes piled on top of him. An overjoyed Twi'lek youngling was drawing on his tentacles with coloured markers.

**BBB**

Bant Eerin looked up from her datapad at the sound of the door to her chamber opening. "Master?" she called, turning around in her seat. She blinked.

"Hello Bant," Kit greeted amiably. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to watch your spar earlier."

"… that's… okay," she managed, still staring at something above his head.

Kit sat down in the other available chair carefully, taking great pains not to move his head too much.

Bant continued to stare at him; more specifically, at the reason for his caution. "Umm, Master?"

"Yes Bant?"

"… never mind, Master."

The small, Twi'lek youngling continued to sleep soundly from her precarious position on top of Kit's head, her tiny fists clutching onto his newly decorated tentacles for security.

* * *

A/N: … yeah, this would imply a pretty sizeable age gap between Kit and Aayla, but I figured that since Kit was at least a Knight and maybe even a Master by the time he took on Bant Eerin as a Padawan, and Bant is about the same age as Obi-Wan, who I think was just a little bit younger than Quinlan Vos (Aayla's first Master), so… creative licence, people. Creative licence. And thank you for the positive reviews everyone!


	3. Chapter C: Council

**Chapter C: Council**

Chapter Summary: The Council discovers their secret. [Stand-alone chapter]

* * *

In another life, another universe, another galaxy far, far away, a young Twi'lek initiate lost herself in one of the many grand corridors of the Jedi Temple. Overwhelmed, the youngling continued to wander, until a kind, Nautolan Jedi Master stopped to help and comfort her, drawn to the teary-eyed child's plight.

With soothing words and a comforting smile, he carried her back to her crèche, where they parted ways – temporarily.

Years passed, the Twi'lek youngling grew older, and the Nautolan Jedi took her on as his Padawan, struck by the change between the frightened youngling he knew in passing and the mischievous, headstrong youth who boldly approached him with a request for Apprenticeship.

They flourished as Master and Apprentice, teacher and student, and embarked upon many challenging but ultimately successful missions. Their fellow Jedi regarded their flawless cohesion with admiration.

The day finally came when the Twi'lek – now a stunning young woman, with a body full of curves, a head full of stubbornness and a heart full of empathy – was to be Knighted. Her Master, proud of his pupil and friend, saddened to let her go, watched on as she exceeded all expectations, and when she turned to him with a delighted gleam in her eyes, his face split into a broad grin.

And thus, they went their separate ways again.

It was not long, however, until their paths crossed again. They were re-united within a year, partnered together for a mission that required the strength of their teamwork. The mission was completed with astounding grace, and the Jedi Council elected to have them work together.

As the years passed, the strength of their bond grew, and flourished once again until one day, their feelings for one another became an unavoidable fact. The Nautolan Master struggled. He meditated. He worried. He brooded. The Twi'lek Knight did not brood; she went for a swim, and before she'd even dried off, her mind was set.

She confronted him a few days later. She would've confronted him within an hour of making the decision, had he not been diligently avoiding her. They spoke; they argued. Their words grew more and more heated, enflaming the air around them, until finally, the impassioned Twi'lek snapped and drew her former mentor into a full-bodied embrace.

The Nautolan brooded no more after that night.

In the following years, they continued with their missions as they secretly continued their relationship. They were discreet, and publically gave no indication of any sort of forbidden tryst.

But as they continued to avoid being caught, their confidence continued to increase, and their caution began to wane, until at last, they were exposed.

The Council lectured them, day in, day out. They were kept apart, as various senior Jedi tried and failed to convince them to let go of their attachment.

After much deliberation on the part of the Council, and much anxiety on the part of the lovers, an ultimatum was given: either they could leave the other, or they could leave the Order.

Together, they left the Order.

* * *

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks for all your supportive feedback! Sorry for the delay, but I cannot promise that it won't happen again. Final year of high school and all – assignments, tests, exam prep and whatnot. A really short chapter this time to tide you over 'til the next one (which _may_ be four or five months out), so I hope you enjoy it. I might pick this one up in a later chapter, detailing their life together after leaving the Order and after Order 66, but no solid plans at the moment.

Thanks again to my beta reader and dear friend, Minion of Sekhmet. (Want more Kit/Aayla? Go check out her stories!)


	4. Chapter D: Dance

**Chapter D: Dance**

Chapter Summary: They're always dancing around the issue. [Stand-alone, set during the Clone Wars.]

* * *

The grand ballroom was the picture of perfection and classy elegance; sparkling chandeliers suspended from the high, gilded ceiling, the smooth floor polished to a reflective sheen, and the floor-to-ceiling windows allowed the deep orange light of the setting sun to wash over the occupants.

Golden droids carrying trays of expensive wine and food moved through the crowds silently. The guests – all impeccably dressed, some to the point of flamboyancy – mingled politely, titters of laughter and the muted susurrus of numerous conversations accompanying the gentle strains of music.

Kit Fisto ignored all this as he weaved his way through the throngs of people, offering smiles to those who acknowledged him. He cut an impressive figure amongst even the wealthiest guests, his formal attire emphasising his tall stature and well-built figure to the utmost. His dark, unblinking eyes swept across the room searchingly, and eventually came to rest upon a figure near the back wall. His lips twitched upwards slightly in the first genuine display of happiness that night.

He could tell that she had sensed his approach long before he reached her, even though she was turned slightly away from him and outwardly engrossed in a discussion with some other guests.

He stopped behind her shoulder, and hid his grin as she affected a look of surprise upon turning to face him. No doubt for the benefit of the group of ladies with whom she had chosen to associate.

"Lady Sapphyria, I would be honoured if you would allow me this next dance," he bowed slightly, holding his hand out.

The other ladies tittered as she blushed and daintily placed her cerulean hand in his. "Certainly, Lord Nephros," she said demurely.

This time, he couldn't stop himself from flashing a small grin that was equal parts amusement and pleasure. He enclosed his hand around hers and led her further into the centre of the room, onto the dance floor. With practised ease, they settled into a comfortable hold and moved into a waltz.

For a minute, they simply danced, their faces mirrored in masks of professional detachment. As the Nautolan twirled his partner around smoothly and dipped her, her eyes flicked to his and a meaningful gaze passed between them. In the next second, he pulled her back up and against his body. Her eyes slid to the side and eyed the couple dancing not too far away from them before returning to his unblinking black eyes.

"You dance very well, Lord Nephros," the cerulean twi'lek offered neutrally.

"Thank you, although my skills and grace are clearly surpassed by yours."

She inclined her head modestly, even as her lekku twitched in obvious pleasure. "My people have a history of being graceful dancers. Your bearing is very regal, nonetheless."

"Again, I must say that your beauty outshines my regality." He smiled when a faint blush tinted her cheeks.

The song came to a close. Polite applause rang out, and some of the dancing couples bowed to each other and left the dance floor. The nautolan bowed deeply to his partner and kissed her hand, but pulled her closer again as the musicians began playing a slow, intimate song. The twi'lek's shimmering white dress flowed around his darker clothing as their personal spaces merged and she leaned her forehead gently against his shoulder. He placed one hand at her slender waist, the other still clasping her hand gently.

They swayed across the floor slowly, unhurriedly. To all else, the couple appeared to be completely centred on each other; to no-one else but them, they were subtly manoeuvring further away from the other dancers.

"How goes your investigation?" she murmured softly.

"Slowly. Garrulen Horrux is definitely hiding something behind all his business fronts and charity balls, but I have yet to discover what exactly."

"How deep have you infiltrated his security?"

"Not far enough," he admitted, a note of frustration seeping into his voice despite his discipline. "I have yet to meet another person as paranoid as he."

"How much longer do you think it will take?"

"Perhaps another fortnight? I do not know." His tentacles twitched agitatedly. "What news from the troll?"

Her lips twitched up slightly before settling back into a neutral line. "We can't afford to have you spy on Horrux for much longer. Your skills will soon be required for the campaign on Glee Anselm, but we also cannot allow his proceedings to go unobserved."

"But if I were to be reassigned before I finish my investigations here, another Knight will have to be inserted into Horrux's corporation. And what little progress I've made will be lost."

The twi'lek pulled back slightly to grin up at him impishly. "That's what they thought as well. So, they sent me."

His heart skipped a beat as he gazed down at her sparkling hazel eyes. Recognising the mischievous glint in her eyes, his mouth curved up slightly in turn. "Oh no. What have you done now?" He murmured teasingly, partly amused and partly dreading her response.

She did not deign to respond verbally to his comment, but her heeled shoe came down on his booted toes in an obvious act of retaliation. He managed not to stumble, but couldn't withhold the slight grimace. Before anyone could even notice what had transpired between the two, he smoothed his features over into a pleasant mask and she moved back into his arms with a muffled giggle.

"Because we can't keep you in your alias for much longer, and as we also can't put another Knight in place to continue your investigations, we're moving on to Plan D."

If he could have blinked, he would have. Instead, his head tresses flickered in interest. "What was Plan B and C?"

"Plan B was some political batcrap manoeuvre, Plan C was a direct confrontation, and Plan D is 'divide and conquer'. Which is what we're about to implement."

"We?"

"Yes, 'we', as in plural for you and me." She dropped a hand to poke him in the ribs quickly, finding his ticklish spot with remembered ease.

"Well I'm pleased to be able to work with you again my dear."

"It's mutual."

They shared a fleeting smile of matching feelings.

"So what does Plan D entail?"

"Basically, you lead security on a false trail while I sneak in and see what evidence I can find."

"How do you even know there's evidence to be found?"

"I, ah… may have let slip to the right people that there's an undercover Jedi Knight snooping around who might've found some incriminating data files."

"But, I haven't," he frowned before he could stop himself and hid it by impulsively tucking his head closer to his dance partner's neck.

She cleared her throat quietly, and to his bemusement, suddenly seemed slightly embarrassed. By what, he wasn't sure. "Yes, well, they don't need to know that. The fact that Horrux went into a panic and started dispatching his security forces to find the, quote, "blasted Jedi scum" unquote, is telling enough."

He huffed quietly in amusement, his breath ghosting over the cerulean skin of her bared neck and shoulders. To his fascination, a wave of goose bumps arose and crested across her skin before fading. "That was quite the gamble you took," he smirked.

"What can I say? Master always did tell me I was too reckless for my own good." She shrugged. "Besides, I had a gut feeling."

"How long will you need?"

"As much time as you can buy me." Her grip on his broad shoulders tightened before loosening the next second. "Don't look now, but I think security's looking for you. Horrux is breaking away from his group as well, looks like he's talking into his communicator."

"You're sure they don't know about you?"

She snorted quietly. "Please, I'm just a spoilt, vapid princess of some rich clan from the Outer Rim. When they approach, make sure to push me away as you escape."

Her words struck him profoundly, and he felt something twist inside his chest. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to pull her closer to him and just pretend that they were two normal people dancing together.

"Kit, are you alright?" Her concerned eyes peered up at him.

He smiled reassuringly, but it felt strained even to him. "I'm fine. How far away are they?"

"They've seen you. They're moving closer now. Fifteen seconds."

Fifteen seconds to push away this sudden and inexplicable sadness that had come over him. After a second wasted on hesitation, he dropped his head so that his face was buried in the smooth, warm expanse of skin at the base of his partner's neck. The toned, supple body in his arms tensed.

"… Kit?" Her voice, normally so strong and laced with mischief, suddenly sounded open and vulnerable.

His answer was to inhale deeply, pulling in her unique scent with all his might and ingraining it in his mind. "I meant what I said earlier, Aayla: you truly are a vision of beauty."

A small, barely audible sigh reached his ears. "Kit…"

"Please," he interrupted, urgency entering his voice. "Just this once, allow me to speak truly."

"Kit, we cannot. You know that if we allow ourselves just one indulgence, we will not be able to stop ourselves in the future." Her throat moved against his cheek as she swallowed tightly. "_I_ will not be able to restrain myself."

His courage died as suddenly as it had swelled. "Of course," he said in an equally quiet voice. "My apologies. I… forgot myself, for a moment there."

Her head moved in a nod, and her cheek brushed against his head distractingly. "Five seconds," she murmured.

The clamour of the various guests as the security detail pushed through the crowds was growing louder, and with a heavy sigh, Kit began to pull away. He stopped in his tracks, however, when Aayla's grip on his garments tightened, keeping him close. "Aayla, what…?"

"If you were truly a Lord Nephros and I Lady Sapphyria, I know that I would undoubtedly be yours," she whispered into his ear. He stared down at her in surprise, taking in her averted eyes and the noticeably darkened hue of her cheeks. He didn't need to look at the jerky movements of her lekku to know what she was feeling, because he knew in that moment that their emotions were mirrored.

"Lord Nephros!" A deep voice boomed across the expanse of the ballroom, drowning out all other sounds.

There was no time to grasp the words floating in his heart. He and Aayla shared another glance, this time filled with determination, and he pulled himself away, forcing his trademark grin into place.

The song came to a close, and Kit prepared himself to launch into the familiar dance of duty, which would pull him ever further away from Aayla Secura.

* * *

A/N: Finally, got this one up. I had trouble with the tone at first, but I got into the groove again – and quite nicely too – after my exams. I hope to be a more prolific fanfic writer in the coming months, but we'll see how that goes while I'm vacationing overseas. I'd imagine not too well, but hey, the muse strikes when you least expect. Consider this a (very) early Christmas present from me should I fail to post another chapter in three weeks' time. Enjoy!

Thanks to _Minion of Sekhmet_ for beta-ing this chapter and being a wonderful source of inspiration, motivation and support!


	5. Chapter E: End

**Chapter E: End**

Chapter Summary: They're trying to end this... whatever it is. They should just give up.

Warning: Blanket rating has been changed to M for language and mature content.

* * *

A Jedi should not become attached to physical comforts, but it was hard to maintain this mindset when he was so warm and comfortable. He felt strangely tired, but in a pleasurable way that made him feel oddly fulfilled. He let out a small hum of satisfaction, to which his pillow murmured wordlessly and curled around him tighter –

Wait, what?

Groggily, Kit propped his head up. When the sleep-induced fogginess cleared from his vision – and to a lesser extent, his mind – his eyes immediately alighted upon the warm, smooth, _live_ pillow he'd been cuddling.

His cognitive functions crashed entirely.

He lay there, in the rumpled sheets and with his arms locked around his pillow – no, not _his_ pillow, _the_ pillow, he objected to himself – in what he now recognised as not being his room. It wasn't even a fellow Jedi's room. He – they – weren't even in the Temple. By the Force, were they even on Coruscant at all?

Kit made a sudden jerk as if to rush out of the bed that was decidedly not his, but stopped so as not to disturb his pillow – oh Sithspit, he might as well admit it: his... err, _bedfellow_.

Who had just snuggled deeper into his bare front.

A sound escaped his mouth, sounding suspiciously like a squeak, and the single train of thought – irrelevantly, it consisted of his musings on the unblemished, smooth skin of his bedfellow – that he'd just managed to get going derailed spectacularly.

"Mmm... stop moving," his bedfellow murmured sleepily. Her husky, slightly hoarse voice sent a shiver rippling down his spine.

_Oh, Sithspawn, I'm in for it deep._ He whimpered as images of death, doom and destruction – AKA Mace Windu – thundered through his mind.

Long, toned legs shifted under the covers, sliding up and down his legs and sent a shudder through his body. He bit his lip, not trusting himself to not make a noise that wouldn't further incriminate him.

_I am so fucked._

That unintentional double entendre triggered a sudden flood of memories from last night. _In more ways than _one, he thought as a strangled noise escaped his lips.

"Kit? What's wrong?" The woman in his stiff arms reached up to rub at her eyes.

"Uh... well..." he cleared his throat, trying to compose himself with mental images of the Council and Yoda and Mace and dear Force, were those her breasts brushing across his chest?

He froze, and so did his bedfellow.

In the next minute, he and his companion engaged in the most awkward and tension-wrought bout of silence that he'd ever encountered. By the cute little wrinkle between his bedfellow's furrowed brows, she was struggling to bring her mind up to speed. He busied himself with tentatively extricating himself from their embrace, doing his very best to avoid physical contact as much as possible. It didn't help at all that a part of him wanted the very opposite.

"... Kit?"

He swallowed. "Yes Aayla?"

"I say we blame this on the alcohol."

* * *

A week passed without them ever bringing the issue up for discussion, or even speaking to each other beyond awkward greetings, pathetic attempts at casual conversation, and hasty good-byes. Whenever they did find themselves face to face, they both made a conscious effort to maintain a distance of no less than one metre away from each other. Physical contact was absolutely taboo, which Kit privately lamented one day, allowing his mind to drift away from his duties. His lack of attention could hardly be faulted, though; lately, he had been sleeping restlessly, plagued by vivid dreams of warm, velvety soft blue skin, brushing against his in heated passion and excitement…

"Master Fisto?"

He snapped out of his daydream with a jolt, keeping the embarrassed flush from rising to his face through sheer force of will. He looked around to find every member of the Council turned his way, inquiring and concerned looks on their faces. Windu was just frowning disapprovingly at him. The uptight Korun really needed to get laid, Kit found himself thinking absently. A second later, he clamped down on that thought, absolutely mortified and disgusted with himself.

Outwardly, he cleared his suddenly dry throat and schooled his face into an appropriately contrite expression. "I apologise, Master Windu. I…" he faltered briefly, coming up blank on a plausible excuse. "It will not happen again," he finally said.

"You have been a bit distracted lately," Ki-Adi-Mundi said. Windu was still frowning at him, and Yoda was just staring at him in that quietly intense manner of his.

Kit felt sweat build up on his back in response to that keenly discerning stare. He almost felt as if he should throw himself to the ground and prostrate himself before the Master Jedi, confess his grievous transgression and beg for forgiveness. Almost. Luckily, he wasn't so tired as to have lost all sense of self-preservation.

"You do look a little unwell, Master Fisto," Shaak Ti said softly. "Is something troubling you?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No, I am merely tired. I… have unwisely been overtaxing myself." Well, that was mostly true. Ever since That Night, he had been spending every spare moment in the training rooms, pushing himself to his physical limits and beyond in an attempt to tire himself into dreamless slumber. Meditations were always derailed by his wandering thoughts and hence rendered completely ineffective (ironically, by the very thing that evoked such a need for meditation in the first place), and his traitorous mind never failed to distract him from studying battle plans and tactics.

Oh blast, Windu was speaking to him again. He turned his attention back to the Korun Jedi Master in time to catch the tail-end of his reprimand, and bowed his head both in acknowledgment and apology, even though he had no idea what had just passed through the swarthy Jedi's lips. Something about following his example of being a stick-in-the-bog and other such blah-blah-blah no doubt. Thinking about smooth blue skin and warm, hazel eyes was much more interesting… which led to completely inappropriate thoughts about That Night, and Force, he _really_ needed to crawl into a hole and die. Preferably quietly, so no-one would find out about his… indiscretion.

A memory rose, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind: heated, sweat-slicked bodies sliding over each other; long, deft fingers threading through his hyper-sensitised head-tresses…

_Kill me. Kill me now._

"It won't happen again," Kit repeated.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and early. Kit Fisto stretched languidly, feeling well-rested for the first time in days. He sighed contentedly and rolled over – only to smack right into something warm, supple and decidedly _not the wall of his chambers_.

With stiff, jerky movements, he craned his head around to identify the foreign object and when he saw the sea of sensual, bare blue skin next to him in his bed, his eyes damn near bugged out of their sockets.

_Sithspit._

_Sithspawn._

_Sith blood._

How the bloody hell did he end up in this situation… _again?_ He remembered bumping into Aayla around the corner from his quarters after the Council meeting had adjourned. He remembered their fumbled, extremely awkward greetings, and the even more awkward silence after that. Then they'd decided they needed to stop avoiding the issue of That Night and discuss it (and why it should never, ever happen again – ever) and the next thing he knew they were kissing and caressing and undressing and _oh Force…_

He buried his face into the pillow. It didn't help matters that Aayla's unique scent clung to it. Beside him, there was a rustle of the sheets as his bedfellow stirred. The movements soon stopped, and a tense silence descended upon them.

"Shit." Aayla croaked, her voice hoarse and absolute sex to his ears.

He withheld a whimper. "Indeed."

* * *

Another week passed.

Kit holed up in the smallest, darkest, dustiest alcove of the Archives he could find. He busied himself with studying the driest and most obscure topics Madam Nu could dig up, all the while trying to ignore the burn of shame and – as the hours turned into days – desire. Which was completely inappropriate. And frustrating. And forbidden. And distracting.

With a long and miserable groan, he dropped his datapad and buried his face in his arms.

"Wow, that sounded like it came from the Outer Rim."

"Aayla!" With a startled cry, he leapt up from his seat, knocking over a stack of holos with a clatter. "What are… how did you… umm, hi."

He gave a little wave, and immediately felt foolish afterwards. He cleared his throat, doing his best - and failing - to meet her eyes evenly. It seemed the twi'lek was also doing her best to avert her gaze though.

Yet another awkward and tense silence settled around them, the only sounds coming from the uncomfortable shuffling of their feet.

"So, uh… how've – how've you been?"

With almost tangible desperation, Kit clung to that conversational lifeline. "Good! Good, I mean, not too bad, you know. Can't complain really, it's been… good." He finished lamely, feeling an urge to find the nearest window and toss himself out from it.

"Well, that's… good." Her lekku twitched, betraying her agitation further. "Uh, well… I, um… wanted to talk to you."

"Talk? About what? Th-there's really nothing to talk about, is there?" He laughed nervously.

The nautolan clearly recalled how their last attempt at 'talking' went. That Night Number One and That Night Number Two both popped into his mind. He simultaneously wanted to 'talk' and find that blasted window.

"Yes, I think there is." She crossed her arms loosely over her abdomen… her exposed, well-toned abdomen… He shook himself out of his daze before he started drooling when Aayla continued. "Kit, it's about… um, you know. And, err… Don't get me wrong, it was goo- I mean, you were g-oh Force, let me start over." She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"It's like a battle. You fight it out until you're a boneless heap, and then in the afterglo- AFTERMATH, in the aftermath!" She flushed darkly, drawing Kit's gaze to her heated skin. "Y-you have to be… debriefed, you know? Like… like discussing the results and possible repercussions with the Council, o-only it would just be between us because it's an insanely private matter and… and…"

As Aayla floundered with her words, Kit found himself admiring her slender figure, the grace of her movements even as she tugged nervously on her lekku. His eyes slid over her lithe arms, lingering over the subtle play of muscle under the smooth, unblemished deep blue skin. The nervous fluttering of her stomach muscles again drew his attention, and the small jewel in her naval glimmered faintly in the light.

_She's… she's glowing._ Kit marvelled in awe. _She's beautiful… hang on, repercussions? Aftermath? Private? Oh Force, s-she's –!_

"You're not…" He paused at the last second, remembering where they were. With a cautious glance around, he pantomimed a distended belly with his hands, making vague, panicked motions with his fingers as he did so.

Judging by the look on Aayla's face, she didn't understand his gestures and quite possibly thought him weird. With a helpless look around for aid, Kit rubbed a hand over his head tentacles and, after making sure no-one was around, mouthed 'baby' and made a rocking motion with his cradled arms. The bemusement on Aayla's face rapidly shifted into horror, and she shook her head frantically at him.

"No! By the Force, no! Just… no! Are you _insane?_" She hissed at him, her eyes darting around nervously. "I mean… Force, this is _not_ the place for us to be having this discussion."

"You're right. We need to find someplace more… private."

"Okay. Alright then." Aayla exhaled softly and smoothed her hands over her lekku. "So… your place or mine?"

"Yours." He kept thinking about That Night Number Two whenever he so much as looked at his bed. Which would not be beneficial to talking.

* * *

The next day, Kit woke up and immediately his eyes went to the blue twi'lek in his arms. And as he'd come to expect, they were completely naked and entwined around each other. He let his head drop back onto the pillow.

"Fuck. Me."

His exasperated utterance caused the woman in his arms to shift a little, and his eyes glazed over and a shudder rippled through his body as her skin moved against his.

_Shit, shit, shit… oh Force, I am dead. Kit, your Code, your bloody Jedi Code!_ He inhaled shakily as he tried desperately to centre himself. _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity._

"Mmm… Kit?" He made the mistake of looking down, and swallowed when he took in the sight of a sleepy Aayla Secura, blinking and rubbing her eyes in an endearing manner and with a sleep line creasing her right cheek.

_There is no… there is no… emotion…_

Gradually, the sleep cleared from her eyes as she glanced down at their… intimate embrace with a bland, inscrutable expression. When she looked back up into his eyes, her hazel eyes sparkled with that deviously familiar look of mischief.

"You know, with the way we always end up like this, I think someone's trying to tell us something."

_Oh, sod it._

With his trademark charming grin, Kit reached up and pulled Aayla flush against him, kissing her soundly.

* * *

A/N: Happy Valentine's/Single's Awareness Day! It's been a while, hasn't it? Unfortunately, I had little time whilst in China to work on writing, but when I got back (oh, about a month ago) I bought Dragon Age 2 and got suckered into 70+ hours of awesomeness.

Oh, and updates are likely to be even more infrequent from now on. I'm so sorry. I never intended to do this to you. You, my dear readers with your endless support and reviews and kind words.

It's not you, it's ME3.

…

Sorry. I could not resist. But hey, you do know the Mass Effect 3 demo is being released today? (Well, technically tomorrow for people in Australia and other such similar areas. Damn you timezones!) So to all you singles out there, get your PS3/X-Box360 controllers/keyboard and mouse out, and start saving the galaxy! And even if you're not single, go suit up anyway!

Special thanks to my dear friend, _Minion of Sekhmet_. Both for beta-ing this and also introducing me to the awesome world of Mass Effect. This chapter is dedicated to you. :)


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